


Philip

by OUATLovr



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Angst, Cute, Fluff, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 13:17:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7759264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OUATLovr/pseuds/OUATLovr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Philip is not as young as he once was. He isn't certain when this came to pass, as he remembers his "glory days," quite well, but he's not about to let his Boy realize it, not if he can help it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Philip

The feasting in celebration of the arrival of the Calormen tradesmen- along with their Prince, who had, as all men who entered Cair Paravel and were not her siblings did, taken an interest in Queen Susan- was lasting long into the night. Though he would never admit it to Lucy, who would never let him live it down, as she seemed quite awake tonight herself, Edmund was getting tired.

He stubbornly believed the tiredness truly came from his absolute boredom, though, rather than the grueling sparring session Oreius had put him through that morning.

Edmund had never enjoyed feasts. At first, the Just King had imagined them to be great parties, where everyone could eat their fill and dance under the moonlight long past Susan's imposed bedtime. He had thought there would be tournaments and games and...just maybe Peter would let him have a sip of champagne while Su's back was turned.

The feasts in Narnia were like this, when they were held on Dancing Lawn and the dryads pulled him and his siblings into elaborate dances that made even Susan trip up on her feet. The fawns would teach Edmund and Lucy dances that Susan never fount out about, but which Peter laughed over, and the centaurs would engage in an intense drinking game that Peter would sneak into when he thought no one was looking; usually resulting in his coughing at the burning liquid, and Edmund's amusement.

Edmund found himself wishing that the traders would leave so that such a feast could take place. But even if they all left early tonight, the traders were to be here for some days afterward. The dryads were far too shy to dance in front of strangers, and Edmund supposed it would look rather undignified for the High King of Narnia to become so drunk that he began spilling state secrets to Calormenes. Susan played hostess, as she usually did, and they all sat around a long, white dining table, eating and listening to music while the Calormenes regaled them with...poetry.

Every once in a great while, a potentially intoxicated man would stand up and give a speech - usually about Queen Susan, or peace - both of which usually turned lewd, before he was asked to sit down once more.

The prime entertainment of the evening.

Edmund tried to enjoy it, the first time, he really had.

Then there was dancing, but no one besides Lucy ever asked Edmund to dance. He had a feeling that Susan would dance with him, too, if she could, but the Gentle Queen was always surrounded by a long line of potential suitors wishing to spend a few moments on the dance floor with her.

At least he and Lucy and were allowed to stay up past Susan's wickedly early bedtime tonight, but right now, Edmund could not find it within himself to be very thrilled about that.

If he had been staying up late to go riding with Philip, or practice with the sword, then perhaps Edmund would have been more so.

Beside him, a young Calormene Lady continued on in her tale about...come to think of it, Edmund couldn't really remember. He turned to her, attempting to pay better attention.

She had been talking to him for most of the night, making her intentions clear, Edmund felt. But he did not like suitors any more than Susan, and was, in his own admitted opinion, far too young for them, and the sight of this girl, obviously trying to gain his attentions and his hand in marriage, made him just as sick as when every other young lady threw herself at him.

Peter said that, one day, he would grow to like these attentions. That he would be thankful that the girls all thought him rather handsome, and all such rot. Edmund didn't believe him for an instant; he had yet to see Peter fare any better with _his_ lady companions, after all.

Lucy and Susan never bored him with their conversations so much.

"And then I told the tarkaan that such advances were not befitting to a nobleman. He was properly chastised and left me alone from then on. I feel great peace about it; I did not want to marry him to begin with, and I am sure _you_ would never do something so ill-befitting of a gentleman, O Noble King." The Tarkheena glanced at Edmund then, and he forced himself to nod and make it appear as though he had been paying attention this whole time while she trailed her terrifyingly thin finger down his arm.

Peter was usually the one with ladies trailing behind him whenever there were guests in Cair, the one with "exotic golden tresses," as Edmund had once heard his older brother's hair described, but none of the ladies tonight seemed particularly interested in the Narnian High King, only Edmund. For good measure, Edmund sent a glare towards his brother as the older boy conversed with the Prince and Susan.

Peter either did not notice or pretended not to. Edmund highly suspected that it was the latter, if the small smirk curling the corner of Peter's lower lip was anything to go by.

The Tarkheena continued her story with particular relish now, with the hopes that she had properly ensnared her audience.

Edmund tried to artfully disguise a yawn by lifting a hand to his mouth and choking it off into a cough at the last minute, but he didn't think Susan had been fooled. She glanced at him in concern and opened her mouth to say something, but Edmund was rescued in that moment by the Calormene prince sitting beside Susan at the dining table.

"In Calormen, it is said by the poets that the rose is a symbol of beauty, my lady. I am pleased that you took it upon yourself to wear that small token of my affections for you" the man interrupted, and Edmund smiled, ducking out of Susan's sight and trying to think of a creative way to leave the room without being noticed or harped upon to return and sit down.

No one seemed to notice his departure from the table except the Tarkheena, who simply shrugged and sent him a small smile, and Lucy, who cast a look of worry in his direction.

He winked at her, still taking care to make sure no one else noticed, and a mischievous glint lit her eyes. She gave him a nod before turning back to her dinner companions; Mr. Tumnus and Starwing, an eagle soldier in the army that Lucy had taken an interest in after he saved her life during an attack on the castle.

Of course, fate never seemed to shine on Edmund, he thought in good humor, as a fawn hurried to his side at the distressed look on his face, effectively blocking his poorly thought out escape.

"Is there anything you require, my lord?" the fawn asked with concern, holding up a pitcher of wine in one hand and a few extra napkins in the other.

For a moment, glancing up at the fawn's sincere face, Edmund was tempted to ask for some wine. He knew the fawn wouldn't give him any per Susan's orders, but it wouldn't hurt to ask, right?

Then he saw the doorway to his escape, to freedom. There were none around it, as it was the door to the ball room, and, beyond that, lead down a hallway to the stables. A moment ago, a centaur had been blocking it, but now he was free.

He turned grateful eyes upon the centaur, even as he attempted to convince the fawn. "No, thank you, I just need some fresh air."

The fawn appeared ready to argue, knowing what Susan had said earlier, jokingly, about not letting her siblings "escape," but then thought better of it, nodding gracefully. "Does his majesty wish me to keep this from the Gentle Queen so that you are not quickly called back to the table?"

A slow grin split Edmund's lips and he nodded gratefully. "For as long as possible, yes."

The fawn also smiled, bowing to him. "Then I shall do my best, my liege. Though I fear that I must warn you; her Majesty will soon find out regardless."

Edmund sighed. "Yes, well, I'd better hurry and enjoy it while possible, then."

And Edmund escaped the Great Hall, disappearing into the ball room. It was not exactly his first choice of an escape route, given the number of Narnians in here, but it would have to do.

Dozens of Narnians hovered around the otherwise empty room, making preparations for the dance that would take place later tonight. Edmund highly suspected that if he stayed, he would not have the pleasure of dancing with Lucy, and would be forced to spend his night with his stalemate. Given how exciting that prospect sounded, he did not feel inclined to stay.

Garlands were hung, food tables were placed out at the sides of the room, and fauns skittered past, carrying platters laden with food.

Deftly swiping a cream cake as it passed, far too close for Edmund to pass up the temptation, he slipped it into the pocket of his trousers for later. He might get hungry after another sparring session, and the delicate helpings that were eaten during this supposed "feast" had done nothing to quell his hunger so far.

"My lord!" a put-out Mrs. Fox suddenly snapped from across the room, scampering over quickly at the sight of Edmund's thievery, or perhaps at the Just King entering this part of the castle before the feast was over at all.

So. Perhaps this was not the best exit plan.

"Mrs. Fox!" Edmund attempted a brave face, hand slipping unconsciously into his trouser pocket and tightening around the cake, like a child caught with one hand in the cookie jar. He didn't know why he felt so guilty; he was a king, after all, and had likely bought the cake himself with the allowance he had put away for this particular celebration anyways. Or so he told himself to assay the small feeling of guilt creeping up.

Mrs. Fox scowled at him. "What in Aslan's name are you doing in the ball room at this hour? The ball does not begin for another-" she glanced around in confusion for a moment, her eyes lighting on something Edmund couldn't see that apparently brought clarity, "Forty minutes."

"Ah, yes." As he tried to think up a suitable excuse for his early departure, Edmund breathed a silent sigh of relief that she had not noticed the snatched cream cake. "Well, you see, I was beginning to worry about the guards outside, at the stables and on the walls. Seeing as they haven't got any warm foods or treats tonight with the feast, while we have all been gluttonously enjoying ourselves..."

Mrs. Fox squinted at him, and he knew that she did not believe his words for a single instant. "Yes, I suppose you are on your way to the stables then, my king." It was not a question that needed answering, but he did so anyway.

Edmund grinned rather sheepishly. "And whatever would have given you that impression, my dear Mrs. Fox?" his eyes lighted on a goblet of wine, teetering past on an old tray as a young hound, clearly new at his work, attempted to carry it. Swiping the goblet off the tray, he brought the sloshing liquid to his lips. Closing his eyes at the chance to savor it-

The goblet was ripped from his hands by Mrs. Fox, the red liquid spilling through the air at a disappointing amount as she held it up in front of squinting black eyes, the claws on her paws suddenly disturbingly sharp. Examining the contents of the goblet, she turned disapproving eyes on Edmund.

Her glare was enough to make one feel as though they were going to burn in the Land of Tash for all eternity, and Edmund ducked his head, feeling properly chastised. He had dealt often with Mrs. Fox in the past; indeed, Susan employed the dear creature to keep a careful eye on her siblings when she was unable to do so. Edmund couldn't help comparing her to the nursemaid he remembered back home, long ago.

No, that nursemaid was quite different, he was sure of it, though he could not quite remember why.

"Why, the fact that you have disappeared off to the stables every evening for the past three feasts that have been held at Cair for foreign dignitaries. And that blasted Philip hasn't the decency to be proper and send you back, as he ought. Why, you know, last time there were dignitaries from Galma, when you were off gallivanting with that Horse, one of the Galmanians happened to see you two speeding past and asked the High King 'what on earth that strange creature was'? The poor Gentle Queen was mortified, I tell you!"

Right, so there was a hallway at the end of this ball room, if he ever managed to get past dear Mrs. Fox, and then he would be at the Royal Stables, where Philip was undoubtedly waiting for him. He only hoped that his Horse had been able to obtain Edmund's sword earlier, so that there would be no more detours.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Fox," Edmund spoke up suddenly, sidling around her.

Mrs. Fox gave him a knowing look before stepping aside and allowing him to pass with a wink. "I shall tell your brother and sisters that you are indisposed for the night, Your Majesty."

Edmund grinned. "Have I ever told you how great a cook you are, Mrs. Fox?"

She waved a paw. "Oh, go on, already, then!" And then, almost as an afterthought, "Your Majesty."

Edmund grinned, making his escape to freedom through the doors at the end of the hall. Now to find Philip.


End file.
